


Hatefuck

by MissMorland



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blackrom, Blowjobs, F/M, Kismesis, bulge and nook, hatefucking, hornplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMorland/pseuds/MissMorland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your control is waning. </p><p>You're trembling, your hand wound tightly in Gamzee's hair, your efforts not to make noise long since abandoned. You're panting and sweating, glasses slipping unchecked. But no, this is all wrong, you're NOT losing control, you're the one in control, you're the dominant one, you're supposed to be--</p><p>"You're losing it, sis."</p><p>Hate him</p><p>You hate him</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hatefuck

**Author's Note:**

> oops my blackrom otp is showing
> 
> I don't know if Gamzee is sober in this or not, he seems kinda aggressive to be high but idk it's up to you
> 
> I seriously ship these two so hard every which-way I love them ahh
> 
> anywhore have some hatesex, it's my favorite thing

You're trembling, your hand wound tightly in Gamzee's hair, your efforts not to make noise long since abandoned. You're panting and sweating, glasses slipping unchecked. But no, this is all wrong, you're NOT losing control, you're the one in control, you're the dominant one, you're supposed to be—

"You're losing it, sis."

Hate him

You _hate him_

You're practically burning up with hatred at the sight of him grinning up at you, his makeup smeared around his vaguely smug face, with the blue of your arousal staining his lips. How dare he reduce you to this, a desperate panting mess against the wall, how fucking dare he have the nerve to take control when you're the one who's supposed to be on top, always. You can't lose this game. You always win.

But as soon you open your mouth to snarl abuse at him, his lips are around your bulge again, his fingers deep in your nook, and the only sound that comes out is a pitiful moan. You shudder hard as his tongue flicks teasingly across the tip of your bulge, then slides along the underside. His fingers crook inside you, and you cry out again, your fingers scrabbling uselessly against the wall for something to hold onto, anything but him. You won't give him the satisfaction of wrapping your hands around his stupid horns. The thought barely crosses your mind before he drags his teeth delicately across your bulge, and you _yowl_ , your hands flying out to grip his horns for dear life. He moans against your bulge at your touch, the vibrations driving you absolutely crazy, because as good as this is, it's not good enough. You need more, and you hate him for not giving it to you. You hate him enough for putting you in this position in the first place. You'd intended to ruin him, make him beg for your mercy, beg for you, and the feeling of your nook around his bulge. But he's got you leaning hard against the wall, your knees shaking, and you hate him for the way your legs are spread whorishly, desperate for more as he licks and sucks your bulge mercilessly, his fingers working in your nook.

You shift your foot as you try to spread your legs wider, hating yourself even as you do, and brush against his t-shirt. It's the only article of clothing he's removed. You hate that he's still there with his jeans on while your pants are somewhere long gone, your panties hastily kicked around one ankle, your shirt pulled up to your shoulders. Your breasts are aching--you're sure they're going to bruise. Gamzee bit to the point of nearly drawing blood, all over your neck, and your shoulders, and your chest. He took his time with you before getting on his knees and pinning your hips to the wall. His tongue is circling the tip of your bulge, and you're so close, so close to losing it completely, but you won't let him do it like this.

You aren't going to lose it.

You aren't going to lose. 

But his tongue makes a particularly talented move, as his finger brushes just the right spot in your nook, and you can't do a damn thing about the stupid whorish moan you make. It's not until then that you realize you're begging, pleading with him to end this. "Gamzee, oh god, fuck, please, fuck me, please Gamzee, god—"

He takes his time pulling off, his smile predatory, blue running down his chin. If you weren't weak down to your knees with arousal, you'd beat that stupid smirk off his face. But now it's all you can do to keep from slumping down against the wall.

You wait for the inevitable—he's going to make you pay for saying that, and pay dearly. You've given him ammunition you can't afford to lose.

But like he has with everything else, he takes his sweet time, standing to his full height, and pressing his body against yours. "What was that, sis?" he asks, his hips meeting yours. You glare up at him, at his stupid crazy grin, your gaze breaking when he grinds against your bulge. "I didn't motherfucking catch that!"

He thrusts against you, and even through his jeans you can feel his own bulge fighting for release, hot and wriggling. You cry out, feeling wetness drip down your thighs. You are so incredibly turned on right now and you are going to kill him if he doesn't fuck you, and soon.

You hate him.

Gamzee rams you harder against the wall, and kisses you as he thrusts again. You bite his lip in retaliation, and he groans, his bulge moving in his pants again.

He draws back, grinning darkly at the utter frustration on your face, clouded with lust. You hate him so much.

"Now what was that again, motherfucker?" he asks, his hips assuming an easy rhythm, rolling against yours. It's so hard to think, let alone answer his stupid-ass question. You groan in frustration, and before you can think you're begging again. "Goddammit, just fuck me, please!"

He laughs, and awful sound, and you want to punch him in the stomach. He pushes you along the wall into the corner, and leans away and braces his hands against the wall behind you, towering over you menacingly. "If that's what you motherfucking want," he says, and you growl. He only smiles crazily, and you shudder. He's completely insane.

Gamzee reaches down, and keeping his eyes locked on yours, unzips his jeans. His bulge wriggles free, and you have to bite back a noise of relief. Now he just has to—

Before you can think, he's hooked his arms under your knees and lifted you roughly against the wall—a position of complete vulnerability. You make a noise of protest as he presses his body against yours, grinning. He sees right through your resistance. "Quit motherfucking pretending, sis. You want this," he says. And you hate that you do, so badly.

His bulge shifts against your nook, teasing you, and you moan. You have no way of retaliating, your arms bracing you against the wall, and him bracing himself against you. "F-fuck you!" you cry, your arms already trembling with the effort.

"Make me," he whispers, his voice a deep growl in his throat. And in that moment you hate him more than ever because you can't, you can't make him, you have no control, it's all him, and you have to fight tears as you glare daggers at him. 

He gives you a sufficient amount of time to reach this conclusion, then pushes in all at once. You don't suppress a moan of relief, your head falling back as his whole body presses against yours. He pulls back, and thrusts, hard. You say "fuck," your voice breathy, as he repeats the motion, fucking you hard while you're helpless and completely at his mercy. You hate it. 

You practically yowl again as he hits just the right spot in your nook, and he growls. "That's right, louder," he says, his breath uneven against your skin as he aims for the same spot. "Motherfucking slut."

You bite down on his shoulder for that, crying out against his skin when he thrusts especially hard into you.

You're trembling uncontrollably, your knees weak, as you come close to the edge. He's been teasing you for so fucking long! His bulge twists and writhes inside you, and you're practically screaming. You hate him so, so much. You're so close and the bucket's right over there, he just needs to—

"Gamzee, oh god, b-bucket, c-can't, I'm—"

But he makes no move to kick it over here, what's he doing, you're going to

And all at once you come, hard, your bulge writhing against his stomach as you _howl._  Cerulean material mixes with purple as Gamzee presses his face into your shoulder and cries out "Vriska!" It drips uselessly to the ground, the bucket a few feet away, untouched. You pant, your glasses askew on your face, as he rests his forehead against your skin. He nips roughly at your collarbone. As soon as you can speak, you lay into him.

"What the hell were you thinking? You missed the bucket entirely!" you pant. "Stupid clown! What are we supposed to do now?" 

Gamzee's still for a moment, and you realize he's grinning. He reaches down, and before you can ask him what the fuck he thinks he's doing, his fingers are stroking your terribly sensitive bulge. You shudder, unable to even say anything, as he grins at you.

"Gamzee—"

"I guess we'll just have to up and go again, won't we?"


End file.
